


1-800-273-8255 (Humantale Sanster)

by CrimsonFandomTrash



Series: Humantale Sanster Shenanigans [9]
Category: Humantale - Fandom, Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Adopted Children, Alternate Universe - Humantale, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dissociation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gaster Needs a Hug, Good W. D. Gaster, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Music, M/M, Married Characters, One Shot, Panic Attacks, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, Smoking, Suicidal Thoughts, W. D. Gaster is not related to Skelebros, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-11 00:35:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12923529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrimsonFandomTrash/pseuds/CrimsonFandomTrash
Summary: Normalcy is something Sans and Gaster both kind of depend on to keep them functioning. Consistency, above all else, represents safety. Given that Gaster is a recovering abuse victim, and Sans has severe post traumatic stress disorder and both have depression, safety is a coveted feeling. After years of having normalcy, and feeling safe, Gaster seems to slip up, and routine can't save him anymore.





	1-800-273-8255 (Humantale Sanster)

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in the future, so Sans and Gaster are married and have kids in this. No, the kids aren't their's, they're adopted. Inspired by the song 1-800-273-8255 by Logic. 
> 
> There isn't enough Gaster angst in the Sanster tag, so I'm here to deliver.
> 
> This is a human AU! Repeat, this is a human AU! That's basically all I write lmao. Either way, please don't leave comments about skeletons not having *insert body part skeletons don't have here*. I'm perfectly aware skeletons don't have that. They're not skeletons here. They're humans.

The day had started like any other day. He woke up, got ready for work, woke his husband. Sans got out of bed after Gaster had struggled to wake him; his younger partner dreaded getting up for work, he begged for five more minutes every morning, and Gaster constantly reminded Sans that he couldn't have five more minutes. He needed his help waking the kids for school. So they woke the kids, who of course didn't want to go to school. Or, at least, Alex didn't. Elle didn't mind going to school; enjoyed it even, and her grades showed for it.

This was clockwork. He knew what would happen basically every second of his day, and he took comfort in it. Sans did, too. Both had agreed that clockwork was safer than unpredictability. Sans had a love/hate relationship with things repeating, but he was even more scared of change, and Gaster felt that was probably because they were both at a place where predictability was more comforting than frightening. They both went about their days with the comfort of knowing that the likelihood of something bad happening was slim to none. 

But, then something was happening that Gaster wasn't even aware of; he was zoning out. Sans finally pulled the former scientist back to reality. "Gast? Gast?" He heard his name being called and finally looked at his partner. When had they all sat down at the kitchen table? When had breakfast been served? He blinked and fixed his glasses. "You kinda spaced out there," Sans said. Gaster started eating his food as if nothing had happened. He dully took note that everyone else was more than halfway done with their food, and he wondered to himself how long he'd been out of it. "Are you okay?" Sans asked.

"Yes, I'm fine. Just a bit tired, I guess." Gaster replied. He had gone to bed pretty late last night, he'd been up till after midnight grading papers. He'd procrastinated to do so for several days, and now it was the last day that grades could be accounted for. So, he'd stayed up until way after the normal time he'd go to bed, grading papers, yawning, and living off of coffee. Fatigue was probably the culprit.

Sans, judging by his expression, didn't really buy that; but, he thankfully didn't pry. He left it at that. The twins left for school, and Sans and Gaster finished breakfast in silence. Sans finally stood from the table and walked over to his older partner, pecking him on the lips. Gaster smiled a bit. Sans sighed. "Have a good day at work?"

"I'll try," Gaster said as he shoved the last mouthful of food in his mouth. "You have a good day, too."

Sans shrugged. "Eh, working at Grillby's is easy. Grillbz is a pretty laid back boss." He said. The smaller male put his jacket on, which he was seen with less and less than he had been before. Probably a noteworthy thing. He kissed Gaster's forehead. "For real, though. Have a good day."

It wasn't said as a command, it was said as a hope. As in, Sans was hoping he had a good day. It didn't click with Gaster why Sans was saying this, but then he took into account the fact that he had randomly blanked out for a while. The last time he'd done that was before he and Sans found a comfortable neutral ground. Found their tick. Clockwork. This wasn't in the routine. Not anymore, at least. So, needless to say, Sans' hope that he would have a good day was something he felt necessary to say. Gaster nodded a little.

"Yeah, of course." He said. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Sans said.

Gaster must have blanked out because when he looked at the clock, a considerable amount of time had passed. Or, at least, he was sure a considerable amount of time had passed. He hadn't really looked at a clock before zoning out again, but from the look on the clock, he was going to be late for work, if he didn't leave right now. So he left, and it took all of his focus to keep his eyes glued to the road, and to keep himself out of his thoughts. Can't go spacing out in traffic, that would be bad. He was actually a bit miffed at the fact that he was spacing out so much. He knew what it was.This had happened a lot in the void, too. He hadn't ever really had the problem looked at, or even talked about it. Even Sans didn't really know about his dissociation problems. They hadn't popped up in so long, so the last time they'd talked about it was just as, if not longer ago, and the conversation hadn't been very in depth. It was something Gaster felt he needed to control. He gripped the steering wheel tighter, clenching his teeth. 

_I could drive into another car and die right now._

And as the alarming intrusive thought passed through his head, Gaster knew today was going to be a long day. 

~~~~~~~~~~

What was he doing...? Even he didn't really know. 

Gaster had begun smoking cigarettes when he was fifteen. He'd only picked up the habit because of his at the time current boyfriend. When they broke up, he quit. He wondered why more people didn't quit. It was surprisingly easy. Don't buy cigarettes, and you can't smoke cigarettes. Find something else to do with your time, you won't notice you even need them. After a while, you won't need them at all. That was how easy quitting had been. 

Now he found himself across from the school with a cancer stick between his fingers as he stood against the wall with a fellow co-worker who had given it to him. He was an older man, who looked close to retirement. Gaster hadn't asked his age, or even his name, really. The only thing he thought they might have in common is taking their break at the same time, and standing against this wall. Hell, even this man, who Gaster barely knew was a constant in his routine. So, when his coworker had seen Gaster leaning against the wall, looking more stressed than usual, he offered him a cigarette. Gaster accepted. "How long have you been smoking?" His coworker asked as he lit one himself. The older man noticed Gaster hadn't lit his and came to the conclusion he didn't have a lighter, so he handed his over. Gaster, if a bit shakily, lit the cigarette and pulled a short drag off of it before handing the man his lighter back.

"Since I was fifteen," Gaster said. He failed to mention that he had quit, but then the other teacher would probably go on some rant about how he shouldn't quit quitting, he would quit if he could, blah blah blah. He'd heard the whole spiel from other people. Even Sans had told Gaster one night, as he stood on the back porch with a lit one between his lips that cigarettes were bad, and that he shouldn't smoke them. He'd made sure Sans hadn't seen him with another since (even though, truthfully, he found himself with one more often than he'd like to admit).

_Yup, just keep lying to him, you asshole._

The thought hadn't been the first or the last of the bad ones he was sure he was going to continue to have today. He took a shaky drag from the cigarette. The smoke filled his lungs, temporary relief filled his brain, and he exhaled. He vaguely wondered if he could still make smoke rings... He'd been pretty good at it before. But, now he was probably out of practice. Oh, well. 

The school bell rang soon, and Gaster put the cigarette out on the building behind him. He shoved what was left of it in his pocket (like half a cigarette, maybe less) before going back into the building.

~~~~~~~~~~

The ride home from work was worse than the ride to work, he thought. The intrusive thoughts were getting a bit louder as he drove in silence. It gnawed at him until he had to pull over and dig through the glove compartment. He finally found what he was looking for and pulled a match from the matchbook, striking it between the cover and the strip. It flared to life, and he lit the cigarette between his lips before shaking the match to extinguish the flame. He smoked the rest of the cigarette before driving home, but it had only offered temporary relief, as it had before. Now he had to bite down the rising feeling of an emotional breakdown. It wasn't really that easy, but he had a feeling having a breakdown in the middle of a busy road wouldn't be good. He didn't feel like getting in a car accident (well, one part of him did, but his reasoning told him today was just a bad day). 

When he got home, the house was silent. Routine. Gaster was always the first one home. Sans was still at work, and the twins had after-school tutoring. Alex usually used that time to nap. If Gaster didn't know any better, he'd say Alex was actually Sans' kid. He sure acted like it. But, no, Alex and Elle weren't theirs. Though technically possible, especially with today's technology, male pregnancy wasn't too common of a thing. Mens' bodies just weren't supposed to bear children, and the process was probably a bit awkward, to say the least. A bit of a letdown, but adopted kids were just as family as biological offspring.

He set his car keys down on the table and went into the bathroom. Maybe a shower would help. He turned the shower on and stripped down to nothing before getting in, letting the hot water drench him as he took in the sight of his arms. Scar tissue, all too familiar from nights before. From days like this one. The thought was, unfortunately, one that stuck. His wrists began to itch. He vaguely found himself wanting another cigarette. He didn't even like cigarettes. Shaky breath in. Shaky breath out. He was okay. He was in control.

He managed somehow to get dressed, even though his limbs felt like lead. He slipped a sweater on before sliding down the wall and sitting on the floor. A sob finally made its way past his lips and Gaster let himself, in the safety and comfort of his own home, break down. But, in retrospect, he probably should have focused on managing his breathing better, because hyperventilation accompanied shaky sobbing and soon he was struggling to breathe at all as the room span. Oh, the too familiar, bittersweet death grip of a panic attack. He hadn't missed this at all.

The day started like any other. Why was he feeling like this?

He kept trying to steady his breathing, to no avail. The failure made him panic more, and then he noticed he was more screaming than sobbing. When had he started screaming? Why couldn't he stop? Why couldn't he just... Breathe? The walls, the floor and everything else around him seemed to fade into nonexistence. He looked around. Darkness. Like the void. 

He let out a blood-curdling scream before hearing the door slam open. Everything faded slowly back into view, and he heard Sans. "Gast, what's wrong?!" Sans' small hands cupped his face, and Gaster would have been relieved if he wasn't having a panic attack the size of Mettaton's ego. So, he only choked on a sob as his body shook. Sans wrapped his arms around him tightly and he basically clung back, hands shaking as they gripped into Sans' jacket. He buried his face in the smaller male's shoulder as he tried to steady his breathing. He still shook. He choked back sobs. He felt lightheaded. "Hey, you're okay... I'm here, you're here... You're okay..." Gaster's arms wrapped tighter around Sans as he started to ground himself back into reality. Breathe in. Hold. Breathe out. _Ha, pretty pathetic_. He had to _think_ to do a natural body function. Breathe in. Hold. Breathe out. His breaths were slow but still shaky. "You're okay..." Sans repeated. Sans put a hand on the back of Gaster's neck, holding him closer. Gaster let himself relax. Breathe in. Hold. Breathe out. Gaster nuzzled into the fur of Sans' hood. His grip tightened into the fabric of Sans' hoodie, fingers curling in desperately. Breathe in. Breathe out. 

Once breathing was back to being second nature, and Sans was almost sure Gaster had fallen asleep there, he sighed. To his surprise, Gaster wasn't asleep. "I'm sorry..." He muttered.

 "What for...?" Sans asked. "You didn't do anything wrong..."

"Sorry, I..." He probably should stop saying sorry. He really didn't do anything wrong. He didn't ask to have a random panic attack. Maybe he could have made some better choices during the day, and maybe some of his earlier actions from today did pile up and make that panic attack happen in the first place, but he didn't do anything actually wrong, perse. His fingers gripped into the fabric of his smaller husband's jacket. "Sorry..." 

Sans sighed again, kissing the top of Gaster's head. "You had a bad day...?"

Gaster nodded. "Kinda... Woke up feelin' like shit." He chuckled, but there wasn't any humor behind it. 

"I had a pretty shitty day, too," Sans mumbled. "Wanna go out tonight, take your mind off it, maybe...?"

Gaster weighed his options, then shook his head. "Let's just stay here..."

And so, they stayed right there, and neither moved from the other's arms. They eventually both fell asleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> After-fic rambles
> 
> By the way, that part where Mpreg is mentioned... That's just my personal opinion on it. I'll still read a fic with Mpreg in it, in fact, some of my favorite fics have Mpreg, but that's not really what I come or stay for, and I'm indifferent about it. So, that being said, Sans and Gaster won't be having kids of their own in my AU. Sorry if ya'll wanted Sanster babies, I just don't really wanna do that because it'd be awkward to write XD Like, Mpreg isn't as common an occurrence in the real world as fanfiction makes it seem, and there's really just no reason to me to make Sans the one damn male character to have kids. Or Gaster. Either or. Especially since either of them being pregnant wouldn't even really add to the plot.
> 
> Ohhh boy I can already see people angrily having the 'male pregnancy isn't even possible' debate in the comments. Lmao, genius, do some research. Yknow, Google's a thing. We have the technology for this shit now, and this fic is set in the future, so they definitely have that technology. Come back when you're educated, lmao.
> 
> If you're suicidal and need to talk to someone, call the number in the title of this one-shot. That's a suicide helpline.


End file.
